


and time can heal our hearts

by sopattable



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, CAROLLING, Christmas, Christmas Cookies, Foolishness, M/M, Playwright!Louis, Scrooge - Freeform, Scrooge!Harry, as per usual, but the ending is happy, holiday spirit, santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-03 01:56:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2833934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sopattable/pseuds/sopattable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis loves December - he loves the lights, the cookies, the presents, the sparkles, and of course, his birthday. Unfortunately, his new next-door neighbour doesn't seem to share that sentiment, and he is determined to change that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and time can heal our hearts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shakyhands](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shakyhands/gifts).



> Hi! I hope you like this fic! This fic mainly encapsulates one prompt, with a small nod to another, and it got a little darker than I intended it to, but I hope it's still cute and fun and the love is there. And, the ending is happy, as requested! 
> 
> Disclaimer:  
> Louis tries very hard to convince Harry to celebrate any kind of Holiday in this fic, especially pushing the idea of Christmas. Oftentimes in the world this can be very disrespectful and ill-advised, as many people have their own faith-traditions and such. Louis is a little bit rash, and a little bit desperate here, and it is very possible that his actions could be offensive to some. I do not endorse all actions done by my characters. As this story’s prompt was that Harry was a ‘Scrooge’ and Louis was a Christmas caroller who tried to cheer him up (though I took the prompt farther than this), the Christmas theme was largely pushed over other holidays, though Louis tried to be inclusive.
> 
> Enjoy!

 

Louis Tomlinson has always loved December. The whole month is a festive season of its own accord, full of lights, music, general joy, and presents — lots of presents. It’s a season of scarfs, and warm sweaters, and mittens, but also parties, singing, sparkles, and light shows. It’s a pretty flamboyant extravaganza of a month, and it’s one that Louis would never miss the chance to celebrate. While Louis is well aware that there are, in fact, specific holidays in December, that people are celebrating, the fact that it all cumulates around his birthday just makes it feel like his own month of good cheer, mulled wine, and shenanigans. 

 

Come December 1st, Louis is cheerfully whistling and affixing lights and garland to his door, when he hears the ding of the elevator arriving at the floor. He barely takes note of it, too absorbed in his decorating, until he sees a man make his way down the hallway, dragging a suitcase behind him while his arms are almost comically overflowing over with boxes. He stumbles past Louis, and grumbles slightly, before awkwardly fishing into his pocket for keys. 

 

“Oh hello -lovely time of year, innit?” Louis chirps, waving with a tinsel-covered hand

 

The man glances at Louis, and shrugs slightly as he pulls the door next to Louis’ open with a grunt. He abruptly shuts the door behind him, and Louis is unimpressed by this display of rudeness. There is then a loudthump of boxes landing on the floor…and toppling over, followed by a slightly muffled “Shit,”, but Louis doesn’t have time for grumpy new neighbours. That is, he doesn’t care _until_ the neighbour surfaces again, opening the door and soundlessly slipping out. That’s when Louis gets a good look at him. The man is young - quite young. He’s probably a few years younger than Louis,in the 24 - 26 age range, and he is…attractive. He’s wearing a long, form-fitting winter coat that reaches his knees in a flattering cut, and a maroon scarf that looks like something out of a fashion magazine. His hair is curly, and windblown, yet somehow manages to look like everything Louis has ever wanted. The one downside is, unfortunately, his face. He is wearing one of the worst cases of bitch-face Louis has ever seen.

 

“Welcome to the building,” Louis says cheerfully, trying to meet the man’s eyes. He looks up, and meets Louis’ eyes, and, oh fuck, his face is actually gorgeous too, despite being grumpy. 

 

“Thanks,” the man responds quietly. 

 

Shitty personality, gorgeous everything else. Such a shame. Louis can’t help but wonder if he might be like some of the characters in his plays - comes across as rough, but really has a heart of gold. Louis will have to keep an eye out for this new neighbour, just to see, and perhaps to get a bit of inspiration for his next work. 

 

\--

 

Harry Styles. That’s the guy’s name. Louis discovers this as they both go to get the mail at the same time a few days later. He knows that he probably shouldn’t look, but let’s be real - who isn’t going to find out an attractive young man’s name, grumpy or no?

 

“Got any Christmas cards in that bunch of mail?” Louis asks, trying to make conversation.

 

“No, not really,” the man responds, and makes no effort to further the topic.

 

“I’ve got one from my great aunt,” Louis tries again, flipping through his mail. “She always sprays the cards with the super strong peppermint gunk that stays on my hands for days, but hey, that’s the season, right?”

 

Harry just sort of grunts, but Louis is unfazed. “I’m Louis, by the way,” he offers, with a smile and a small wave.

 

“‘m Harry,” Harry mutters quietly, and makes no further efforts of communication, so Louis shrugs and heads back to his flat, where he then goes through the rest of his mail. There are bills, which, being essentially unemployed, are terrifying, a small cheque from his recent flop of a play, and flyers. There’s also a card from his mum. The front has two snowmen made out of sand wearing bikinis standing at the side of the road. When Louis opens the card,the caption reads, _Have a chill Holiday_. 

 

His mother has added an inscription as well. “Hey Lou!” it reads. “Dan and I have decided to finally go on that Christmas cruise this year! Yay! That means we’ll be spending the day on the beach in the Bahamas! Hope you have a frosty time here in the UK - fear not! I’ll have beach margaritas for you, and we’ll have a little post-Christmas party with the girls at my place on the 29th. Merry Christmas!”

 

Louis frowns. No Christmas at his mother’s, and this is how she decided to tell him?? Does that mean he’ll just be alone at his flat? Not exactly the ideal Christmas, but he’ll make it work. Technically that means that it won’t be the ideal birthday either, because he’s accustomed to spending it with family, which may not be everybody’s cup of tea, but traditions are traditions for a reason. Louis is good at shaking off unfortunate things, however, so he quickly determines that he must make the best of this situation, which obviously means he needs to _super_ celebrate Christmas here, and make sure that everyone feels its festivities. Then, if he does that, waiting until the 29 th to see his family will be completely alright. It also gives him a lot of time to get some writing done, which will hopefully prevent him from spending needlessly long periods of time under his mother’s roof in the future. As a playwright whose last properly successful play was nearly two years ago in early 2017, Louis knows he has approximately five months of money left before he either has to find a menial job, or move back in with his mother, and he’s not quite sure which would be worse. 

 

The one thing that would be even worse than moving back with his mother would be a lack of holiday spirit, of course, so Louis is determined to bring everyone in the building together, one by one. It doesn’t take Louis long to figure out his first target for the holiday spirit - that cute little grump next door. He will make Harry smile and get with the holiday spirit, and he won’t stop until he succeeds!

 --

Steps to engage in Holiday Spirit aren’t difficult to determine, as Louis is simply full of ideas. For example, there’s a small ledge outside of Louis’ apartment, where people can put little identifying things to make it feel a little bit homey. Louis has kept a wide assortment of trinkets and pranks on the ledge through the past few months, but this month he has the perfect contribution. Last year during Boxing Day sales he had picked up the absolutely most obnoxious singing Santa he had ever seen. At ten inches tall, this motion activated Santa sits still until an unsuspecting victim walks by, at which point it launches into a full dance routine, complete with flashing lights, while singing “Santa Claus is Coming to Town”, “Jingle Bells” and a strangely twisted version of “Santa Baby”. This whole ordeal takes nearly five minutes to complete, is obnoxiously loud, and the off-switch is inconveniently located way under the back of his jolly jacket, where his ass-crack would be, were he to be anatomically correct. Due to the location of Louis’ door in relation with Harry’s door, Harry would need to walk past the Santa 100% of the time when leaving and arriving at his apartment. This fact gives Louis great satisfaction, for some reason or another, because while being wholly obnoxious, it fills him with Christmas spirit every time it goes off, and surely it can do the same to the grump next-door.

 

It’s with great joy that Louis sets the Santa on the ledge, and stealthily flips the switch, running back inside his apartment before he can set it off. Now, he will sit and wait for this guerrilla Santa attack.

 

Sitting and watching is moderately conducive to writing. Instead of working at his desk in his  office, he has to work in his rocking chair, which he has moved to sit closer to the door, but in some ways it works. He idly writes about a modern-day Scrooge, who hates Christmas due to its commercialism, but while picketing sales and gift-giving, somehow forgot about the whole spirit of the day. It’s quite possible that the character is inspired by Harry, as he swears he heard Harry mutter ‘bah, humbug!’ last time he walked past Louis’ festive door; the fact that he said that is cartoonish and ridiculous, yet somehow legitimate. Louis is unsatisfied with his character, however, as he feels  he is missing something, and he’s not quite sure what. 

\--

Harry hasn’t left his apartment in 3 days. Or, maybe he has, but he hasn’t set off the singing Santa yet, and Louis is growing impatient. This means that Louis also has not left his apartment in three days, and to say that he is growing stir-crazy is a bit of an understatement. It’s probably time to make Harry experience the world, or something, or at least make sure that he’s not dead, because after all, that’s what a good neighbour would do. A good neighbour would also make sure that his check-in and greeting after 3 days of isolation would be extravagant, fun, and a true gift, and Louis knows exactly what to do: Christmas carolling.

 

Louis is quite pleased that he has hung out around the building enough to generate a small assortment of children who quite adore him, and parents who seem to appreciate the break he gives them when he hangs out with them. When he’s finally found himself seven children who are home from school thanks to the unfortunate snowstorm outside, he checks to see what songs they may know that they can sing together. The consensus is the chorus of Jingle Bells, Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, We Wish You a Merry Christmas, and the “falalala” part of Deck the Halls. Jasmine says she knows “Santa Baby”, but she’s 6 and…yikes. The children are told to find their best Christmas costumes and hats, and to meet him back in the lobby in five minutes. It ends up being more like ten, but they look adorable, and truly irresistible. Harry is going to smile — hook, line, and sinker!

 

Louis gets Clara, the littlest one, to knock on Harry’s door. She has a cute little angel face and an elf hat, and Louis is certain that Harry wouldn’t be able to resist her. He gets the other six children to hide on the sides of the door with him, preparing them to jump out on cue. After five short knocks, Harry cracks the door open, wearing a light blue fuzzy house-coat.

 

“Oh hello, sweetie,” he says, bending down with a gentle smile. “Are you lost? Are you okay?”

 

Louis has never seen Harry smile before, and this is everything he’s ever wanted. “Now!” he exclaims to the other children, and they all jump out and begin to sing Jingle Bells at the top of their lungs. The look on Harry’s face is…..

 

Grumpy. That is not the look that one should have on their face when exposed to small children terribly singing Christmas songs, and that’s not the look that he had on his face when he first saw Clara. This is unacceptable. Louis must sing more. As soon as the chorus to Jingle Bells has been sung four times in rapid succession, Louis begins a rousing chorus of “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” which they sing through four times as well. It’s clear that Harry has something to say, because he keeps opening and closing his mouth like a fish, but Louis just keeps the children singing. Harry must succumb to their charm - he must!

 

After they finally finish, Louis gets the children to take a bow, and Harry gives each child a small smile, but none for Louis. “Thank-you,” he says slowly. “You are all very good singers. Good job.” He frowns slightly as he looks up at Louis and continues pointedly, “but I don’t celebrate Christmas. Perhaps you could find someone else who would enjoy this more.”

 

Harry doesn’t celebrate Christmas? Shit. Well, that explains it. That said, Louis isn’t one to discriminate, or to give up easily, and he will discover what Harry celebrates and bring him that sort of Holiday cheer. It is his duty. 

 

“I’m so sorry, sir,” Louis says with a nod, trying to hide his disappointment. “A very happy holiday season to you, and all the good tidings. Say goodbye to the nice man, kids!”

 

The children shout a chorus of byes, and Jasmine begins to sing Santa Baby, but Louis pushes her away from the door, which then sets of his Singing Santa Claus, which begins to sing the same. Louis considers turning it off, but decides that he might as well let it keep playing. Good tidings.

 

“Thanks kids! That was great!” he exclaims, clasping his hands together. “Good singing and good work. See you soon!”

 

“Wait,” Jasmine says with a frown. “We only got to carol at _one_ door. That’s no fun!”

 

“Yeah!!” Riley pouts. “I want to carol _everywhere._ ”

 

There’s a chorus of boos and Clara starts to wail in the middle of the hallway, so Louis has to think quick. “Yeah, yeah, of _course_ we’re going to sing everywhere,” he reassures them, though that was, for some reason, never the plan at all. “We’ll fill everyone with holiday cheer!”

 

“Yay!!!” the children exclaim, and they do just that. 90 minutes later, Louis and the children have gone around to almost every flat in the building, and every single person who opened their door to them smiled warmly, and thanked them profusely. Every single person except Harry Styles. It’s weird because, even as Louis brings the children back to their parents, Louis doesn’t feel that warm, cozy, love and holiday spirit, even though they’d contributed so much to it. Instead his mind is just on Harry, and the fact that nothing, _nothing_ seems to work to get him out of his grumpy spirits. 

 

It bothers him. Louis is the king of making people smile and laugh, and he’s always up for entertainment, yet this Harry is absolutely unflappable and he can’t understand why. He can’t help but really want the one thing he can’t have - a proper, genuine, smile from Harry Styles. He can’t fathom why this guy is so sour, and why he seems completely immune to Louis’ usually brilliant charm.

\--

Since nothing else has worked thus far, clearly Louis’ only option is to make cookies. Everybody likes cookies, and no one can possibly turn them down, including that bastard, Harry Styles.

 

The only problem is that Louis has made cookies on his own exactly once and it didn’t go so well. That was the day that he met Liam, the volunteer fireman, who had refused to strip off his uniform to recreate the visions of Louis’ fireman calendar after extinguishing the products of Louis’ evening with the entirely wrong kind of white foam. It was a memorable event, yes, but not one Louis wished to repeat. 

 

Louis sets out to grab his scorched cookie sheets from where they are buried under all the other dishware he rarely uses, and grabs the cookie cutters he’d picked up at the store earlier. They are in a “Holiday Fun Pack”, marketed with a snowman, a christmas tree, a menorah, some sort of spinning top, a moon, a present, and a santa hat, listed as “please everyone - offend no one”. This seems the sort of thing that would only be used by someone who was trying to be hopelessly politically correct at an office “Generic Holiday Celebration”, which is likely why it was 40% off, but it suits Louis’ needs perfectly. 

 

Louis intends to make cookies at multiple points during the day, but instead spends the majority of the day at his desk, scribbling down play ideas. He had told himself that he would bake after he got a solid idea, or 1000 words of dialogue, though in hindsight, 30 crumpled pieces of paper should have been a finishing qualifier as well. Louis is completely and utterly without inspiration, and he’s probably doomed to move back into his mother’s basement, as at this rate another successful play is looking unlikely. Great life situation for a 28 year old. Everything 8 year old Louis had aspired to, truly.

 

This is how somehow, at 12:30am, Louis finds himself very hungry, having missed dinner, and without a single cookie baked. Not being one to give up, Louis quickly found himself some sugary cereal, and a beer to get him going again, and set about making the cookies.

 

The recipe on the back of the “Holiday Fun Pack” label calls for sugar, eggs, flour, salt, unsalted butter, vanilla, baking soda, and baking powder. Louis surprisingly has all the ingredients except baking powder, though the sugar is mainly all crystallized together, and the baking soda is usually only used for cleaning. He doesn’t have a whisk, and wouldn’t begin to know how to use it either, so he ends up stirring the ingredients together with a metal spoon, which produces a lumpy, but marginally shapeable dough. When it comes time to roll the dough out onto the counter, he remembers that he is also not in possession of a rolling pin, but any round object should work, right? 

 

He looks around the kitchen, taking a swig from his beer.

 

After rolling the dough out with his now empty beer bottle, Louis does his best to make a variety of cookies and put them on a pan. He admires his handiwork on the first pan, surprised at the fact that they only _sort_ of looked like the work of someone who never baked ever, and puts them in the oven that he preheated, as per the directions, and waits. He evens sets a timer, because this time, he is determined to do things right, as anything less than right clearly won’t get a smile out of Harry. 

 

As making cookies is a new activity for Louis, the entire mixing and measuring process takes nearly an hour, and resulted in a flour-y and messy Louis, and an equally white and powdery kitchen. While not typically the best home-maker, Louis tries his best to clean, before taking a quick rest on the couch. He is loudly awoken, 15 minutes and 32 seconds later, according to his timer, by the blaring of his fire alarm.

 

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” he yells, jumping to his feet and rushing back to the kitchen. The smoke is not yet thick, and after waving smoke away from the detector with his sweater, he peeks into the oven to see the damage. One cookie, placed too close to the edge of the cookie sheet, had expanded over the side, and fallen onto the hot elements below, creating a sort of burning, sugar cookie charcoal. Louis quickly turns off the oven, and rushes to open a window to let some of the smoke come out, hoping to stop the blaring alarm. Suddenly there’s a knock on his door.

 

Louis swings the door open quickly. “I’m so sorry. There’s no fire, just smoke and I promise I’ll…” he trails off as he sees who’s standing in front of him.

 

It’s Harry - hair tussled, eyes sleepy, wearing a ratty tank top and pyjama bottoms with bananas on them. He’s holding a fire extinguisher.

 

“Heard the noise,” he murmurs, blinking slowly. “Are you going to burn down your apartment and mine as well? Need help?”

 

The alarm is still blaring and Louis just gawks at Harry. “Uh, no..no… I think I’m… okay. But thanks. Sorry for waking you?” 

 

Harry closes his eyes and breathes slowly, and after a moment speaks again. “Why did this happen?” he asks, and it’s unclear whether he means the fire alarm, or the fact that he’s awake at…oh lord, almost 2am.

 

“Holiday cookies?” Louis says sheepishly, and if on cue the fire alarm stops blaring, and he lets out a sigh of relief.

 

“Fantastic,” Harry mutters, nodding slightly. “Should’ve known. Anyway, bye. I’d like to sleep now thanks.” With those words, he lumbers back to his own flat, somehow setting off the singing Santa that he managed not to trip on his first walk past the door. Louis hears his horrified groan, and has mercy, stepping out and turning it off.

 

Louis decides that that is enough cookie disaster for one evening, and puts the mainly but not 100% cooked cookies on a plate, and the remainder of the dough in a bowl in the fridge to attempt baking again in the morning.

 

——

 

 

The next day, after cooking up the final remaining dough, slightly more successfully, Louis makes up a plate of cookies to take to Harry. The first pan of cookies was pasty and doughy, and the second pan was just slightly burnt (it was absolutely not Louis’ fault that he waited to go wee until 15 seconds before the timer went off…and then forgot that the timer had gone off), but together they make up a plate of diverse Holiday cookies that Harry would definitely enjoy. Maybe.

 

It seems a bit ludicrous by now, but Louis is completely 100% invested in making Harry get into the holiday spirit. He’s not quite sure why, but he’s certain that he will not rest until he gets a little smile, or at least a bit of cheer out of the young man next door. Perhaps it just seems like a goal that’s more attainable than writing a good play, because currently Louis is completely and utterly lacking in inspiration.

 

Throwing on a cozy green, yet festive sweater, Louis knocks on Harry’s door, plate of cookies in hand, and a big smile on his face. A sleepy Harry, wearing a grey beanie and a too-big sweater opens the door partway, and lets out a groan when he sees who it is.

 

“What do you want?” he asks, scrunching up his nose.

 

“I brought some cookies!” Louis exclaims, gesturing wildly to the plate in his hand.

 

“I….see,” Harry sighs. “Are these the cookies that woke me up last night?”

 

“Only some of them,” Louis quips. “Rest I cooked this morning. I won’t tell you which are which though, cause you might discriminate.”

 

There’s not a movement on Harry’s face. Not a flicker of a smile. Nothing. “Oh,” he says. Just ‘oh’. No ‘oh cool!’, no ‘oh thanks’, just ‘oh.’ Tough crowd.

 

“Sooo aren’t you going to take one?” Louis prompts, and Harry reaches out and, nose still wrinkled, takes a menorah.

 

“Oh cool!” Louis says. “So you’re Jewish?”

 

Harry looks tired to be asked this question. “No,” he says simply. “Not really. Just looked the most edible of the bunch.”

 

“So what do you celebrate?” Louis asks, as Harry raises the cookie to his nose, sniffing it. 

 

Harry frowns. “I don’t celebrate _anything_. I don’t celebrate. It’s just a month. It’s nothing special.”

 

This is an appalling thought to Louis, and not what he wanted to hear. “Just a month? _Just a month?_ What about my birthday! How are we supposed to celebrate my birthday if we don’t celebrate anything.”

 

“Listen, you celebrate whatever you want, and happy birthday? I guess? But it’s not like I’d celebrate your birthday anyway because we’re not friends…” Harry says tiredly, and he’s edging the door backwards, closing it ever so slowly.

 

“Yeah but like…” Louis protests.

 

“We’re not friends,” Harry repeats, his face emotionless. “Thanks for the cookie…I guess. Bye Louis.” And with those words, he shuts the door behind him.

 

The one good thing Louis can take from this is that Harry knows his name, and he only told him once. Returning to his apartment, he sits down at his desk with the plate of cookies, drafting a new character - a grumpy young cherub with a secret that causes him to be grumpy. The character doesn’t feel all that original, and the cookies aren’t remotely tasty, but he stress-eats half the plate anyway.

 

\--

The building where Harry and Louis’ flats are located is four floors high, and on December 20th they have a building-wide Holiday party in their common area on the first floor. Louis, feeling that after nearly a month of pure isolation, feels that going to such a party is absolutely imperative, and he is prepared to embody the festivity of the season. Since he figures Harry will not be making an appearance at the party on his own, Louis makes a special invitation to the party for him, despite not even helping with the planning. “December Party!” the invitation reads. “A time for people in the building to get together and have fun and celebrate the Holidays, or not. Also, there’s free food. Hope to see you there!” Louis includes generic clip-art of a balloon and streamers, as well as a picture of cake, because everyone likes cake, as well as the appropriate date and time, and slips it under Harry’s door. This is the best way to spread some holiday cheer while offending no one, as he can’t help but feel discouraged with the whole Harry situation. He hasn’t done anything to try to give him cheer since the cookie incident, and is overall feeling hopeless, but he’ll make this one last attempt. He has tried to redouble his efforts in writing in the meantime, and as started putting together a comedic play, in hopes that he can brighten other people in the new year. It’s sort of funny, though not his usual sort of humour, so he hopes that it can at least bring in a few small royalties, buying him a little more time before his next big play, if he ever has one.

 

Louis arrives to the celebration just as it is beginning and the food is still hot, and he is prepared to fill everyone with holiday cheer. He even puts on a set of antlers and a red-nose, dubbing himself the most famous reindeer of all: Loudolph. As he chats vibrantly with the children and their parents, remembering just how much of an extrovert he really is, and how much he hates being cooped up in his apartment, he sees a familiar face from the corner of his eye. He gently unhinges Clara from his leg, and makes his way over.

 

“Well, hello,” he says, smiling sweetly. 

 

“Oh, hi,” Harry says, considering Louis’ costume. “You look…interesting.”

 

“Wouldn’t have it any other way!” Louis quips, and Harry gives the smallest, most tight-lipped smile he’s ever seen. Everything about him reads tense, from the way he holds his paper plate full of food, to his posture. It’s clear that Harry is not particularly comfortable standing there.

 

To Louis’ shock, Harry speaks again. “This party isn’t awful,” he says slowly, and Louis nods reassuringly.

 

“Yeah, but you’re against Christmas, right? So it makes sense it wouldn’t be your favourite. That’s fine. You can still have fun.”

 

Harry tilts his head. “I’m not _against_ Christmas,” he says. “I just haven’t found the slightest bit of enjoyment in it for years, so I choose to stay away.”

 

“Well, someone should probably fix that,” Louis enthuses, and Harry just winces.

 

“Yeah, well, probably not. Anyway, have a good day, Louis,” Harry says with a small wave, and walks right out of the party. 

 

On the one hand, Harry spoke to Louis, which is quite good, despite it not being very friendly. On the other hand… _Harry isn’t against Christmas_. It’s five days before Christmas, and this means that Louis has one more chance, one more big display of holiday spirit.  And, seeing as Louis’ friends haven’t been available on his birthday in years, due to its unfortunate coinciding with the holiday, the chance to make Harry smile seems like the perfect birthday present to himself. The question is just…how?

 

\--

 

Louis gets the idea of how to do a final grand gesture when his mother calls him on the 22nd.

 

“Hey Louis! Dan and I are just heading down to the airport. Just wanted to check in before we left, and wish you a happy birthday! You doing anything exciting?”

 

“Yeah, maybe. Not sure yet,” Louis says, shrugging, and then, struck with an idea, he speaks again. “Do you have some extra Christmas lights, seeing as you won’t be there for Christmas? And what about that Santa costume Dan used last year?”

 

“Yeah, you can have whatever you want, sweetie. Do you remember the code to the garage?”

 

Louis tells his mother that he does, and thanks her graciously, while wishing her a happy and vacation. He spends that afternoon driving to Doncaster, picking up the lights, and then returning to his flat with a whole new sense of purpose.

 

In order to do his scheme, Louis needs to wait until it is very dark out, and Harry is probably in bed. Therefore, it’s not until 3am that he slips onto his balcony, and begins to set-up a vibrant display of lights as stealthily as he possibly can, before climbing over the railing to Harry’s balcony, and continuing the display there. Once he finishes quietly putting up the array of lights, and crawls back to his own balcony, he leaves the lights turned off, intending to only set them off when it is time for his big display. 

 

On the 24th at 4pm, Louis blows out the candles on the small cupcake he bought himself as a birthday present, and prepares to set-forth with his grand spectacle. He’s noticed that Harry usually eats dinner at 5:30 (as observed by creepily listening against the wall to figure out what time Harry eats dinner for this very purpose), and his couch and table both are in view of the window facing his balcony. Therefore, at 5:35, Louis will sneak onto Harry’s balcony, while wearing the Santa suit, and carrying a present, and will set-off the lights while yelling “Ho ho ho!” He will then leave the present on the balcony, after meeting Harry’s eye and winking, and climbing back onto his own balcony. He also set up a small CD player that would play Christmas music, that Harry probably wouldn’t even hear, but Louis really feels it adds to the ambience.  It’s a foolproof plan - there’s not a human being in the world who wouldn’t be brought Christmas spirit and excitement from that!

 

…Okay. Louis isn’t convinced that it’s the best idea, but hey, he’s run out of other options and at the very leas it’s ridiculous enough that Harry would have a story to tell before filing his restraining order, if it came to that. Therefore, he carefully puts on the Santa belly, the stiflingly warm red suit, and the itchy beard and hat, admiring himself in the mirror. He slips the remote in his pocket, and gives a test “ho ho ho.” Deeming it acceptable, he goes to sit in his living room and wait the remaining 45 minutes before the beginning of his plan, as apparently he was a bit over-excited to get things going. As he sits there, he looks out the window, despite the balcony being dark, and tries to think over the year.

 

It’s been a weird year, that’s for sure. He’d moved to London to get closer to the theatre district in March, and had felt more isolated than he’d been in ages, while not getting any successful plays written and out to the public. He’d barely gotten to see his friends, and just felt like a whole lot of it was just…meaningless. Yet here he is, ready for a new year of new cheer and new beginnings, he hopes, and hopefully a smiling young man in the flat next door. For some reason the fact that Harry just hasn’t responded to anything has made him feel more hopeless and unsure about things, and less into the season himself. He doesn’t know why he cares so much, but he does. That’s why his heart freezes for a moment, when he sees a dark shadow step out under the streetlights by the road, and when he realizes it’s Harry, carrying a small suitcase, he immediately runs out of his apartment, and down the stairs, not knowing why he’s running, or why it’s so important, but running as if his life depends on it.

 

\--

“Wait!” Louis screams, as he reaches the curb where Harry is standing. “Where are you going?”

 

“None of your business,” Harry mutters, not making eye contact.

 

“What could be better than here?” 

 

“There’s a quiet Jehovah Witness community that has a nice bed and breakfast,” Harry states, his voice even and unemotional. “They leave me alone, and I leave them alone. It’s nice.”

 

“But you can’t leave on Christmas! You’ve got to have at least a _little_ Christmas spirit in you, don’t you?”

 

Harry looks at Louis, his brows furrowed. “You know what?” he says finally, his tone sharp and accusing. “I don’t have to like Christmas. I don’t have to like December. I don’t _have_ to care about the holidays, and it really shouldn’t matter to you. Why the fuck do you care so much?”

 

“I just…” Louis stammers, trying to find words to explain, or even the meaning behind the whole thing. “I just want you to, okay? It seems wrong to see someone so against it. Why do you hate it so much? Why does _nothing_ make you smile?”

 

“Because Christmas is _nothing_ ,” Harry exclaims, eyes flashing. “It’s fantastic that it makes you happy, whatever, but I just don’t want to be a part of it, okay?”

 

“But it isn’t nothing!” Louis begs, “It’s beautiful, it’s special, it’s _magical_! It has to be. It just does.”

 

At these words, something in Harry’s face changes, and he blinks rapidly, before crumbling and sitting down on his suitcase. “Christmas _isn’t_ magical, okay?” Harry says quietly, head bowed. “Do you want to know why I don’t like this time of year? Do you _really_ want to know why I’m not interested in your stupid games?”

 

“Yeah, I do,” Louis says, “Because I’ve been trying so damn hard to make this work, and you’re giving me nothing.”

 

“Fine. Well when I was 8, my dad left. December 1st, left to get ‘milk’. What a fucking cliche. He never came back. But everybody kept saying that Christmas was a time for miracles, and for some damn reason I believed them. _I believed them_. So I wished on every star, asked every mall Santa I could convince my mother to let me stop at, wrote in a letter to _the_ Santa Claus and put it in the mail, that my dad would come back to me. And when I went to bed on Christmas Eve, I think believed it. I really believed I’d wake up in the morning and he’d be there for me. A Christmas miracle! And you know what I woke up to? A truck. Yes. A truck. I didn’t even play with trucks, but the card on it said ‘love Dad,” and I’m not even convinced it was his hand-writing. And I never saw my father again.”

 

Louis is standing frozen, unsure what to say. He wracks his brains for words, and all that comes out is a quiet, “I’m so sorry.” He gently tugs off his Santa hat and beard, and holds them at his side, in a sort of silent respect. This is the most he’s ever heard Harry talk, and it’s just so much, and means so much, and he is, for once in his life, at a loss for words.

 

“You know what though, don’t be sorry. The only person who should be sorry is that jerk! I think I kept wishing he’d come back for a couple years, and when he never did, and then even the cards stopped, I just stopped celebrating or trying anymore. And maybe I’m a bit of a buzzkill, but I just really have no interest in it anymore. I’d rather have low expectations, and have them met just perfectly. Works out better that way.” There’s a sniffle, and Louis can’t help but wonder if Harry might be crying. Or perhaps, it’s Louis crying - maybe both.

 

“I…I can’t even imagine,” Louis tries, words not coming. “That’s so awful, and I’m just…I wish I could help.”

 

“I’m really not sure there’s anything you can do,” Harry says. “Like I told you before, this season just isn’t for me. I’ll probably be more fun come January.”

 

There’s a bench behind Harry, and cautiously Louis moves to sit down. “What do you do at the bed and breakfast?” he asks gently.

 

“Hide, mainly. Pretend it’s just any other day. Wait for the festivities to end. Escape.” Harry pauses. “What do you do when you stay here? Celebrate? Get drunk off eggnog?”

 

“I usually go to me mum’s,” Louis tells him, “But this year…it’s just me. She’s gone on a cruise with my step-dad. She face-timed me earlier from the Bahamas. Looked nice.”

 

“Where’s your dad?”

 

“Left when I was just a few days old,” Louis murmurs. “Had another step-dad too, mainly raised me, but he and I don’t talk all that much anymore. I’m meeting with my sisters on the 29th, but we’re all living apart now, so unless mum gets us together we don’t really see each other.”

 

“Guess we’re both alone for Christmas,” Harry observes. “Feels almost poetic.”

 

“If you like that morbid kind of poetry, yeah I guess so,” Louis murmurs. “Doesn’t feel like a Christmas poem though.”

 

“Does it ever?”

 

Louis doesn’t respond to that question, because there really isn’t much to say. “So you’re just waiting for your taxi?”

 

“Yeah. It’s late. I’ve heard the roads are a bit rough,” Harry nods, not really looking up.

 

“Ah, right. Yeah. So, what do you do? Like, for a job?”

 

“I take photographs,” Harry states, “For newspapers. Got a new assignment here, which is why I moved. Never get to photograph the cute stuff like the kids though. I usually get stuck with the burning buildings and crime scenes and protests. They say that I capture the gloom just right. And you… what do you do?”

 

“Me?” Louis asks. “I write plays. Real shit ones, usually. Made one decent hit, suddenly though I made it big. Got a couple months left though before I run out of money. Hopefully me mum will take me back in then if I run into too much trouble.” 

 

Harry just sort of nods. “Yknow,” he offers, “I thought you were an annoying fuck. But looks like you really were just trying pretty hard all along. That’s sort of admirable.”

 

“I do my best.”

 

The two men are quiet for a few minutes, and Louis feels the cold whip around him. In his thick Santa jacket, he still feels warm, but his ears are chilled, and he can see Harry holding himself close, seated on his suitcase almost immobile. He could leave and go back inside, but it feels wrong. Feels more like this harsh cold and darkness is suiting, somehow. A response to his over-compensation this Holiday season.

 

He almost misses it in the wind, but Harry quietly asks, “So, why are you still here?”

 

“I just thought it might nice to stay,” Louis admits. “If that’s okay.”

 

“Yeah, yeah. That’s fine.”

 

Just a few moments later, the taxi arrives, and Harry stands up, shaking the flakes of snow from his hair. “Well,” he says quietly, “This is me. Hope your tomorrow goes…alright.”

 

“Yeah… yeah… you too,” Louis murmurs, frozen in place. He feels like he’s got to do something, but he doesn’t know what. He realizes though that he can’t just let Harry go - not after all this. He’s tired of being alone, tired of not pushing forward and fighting for people who cares about, and truth is, he really does care about Harry - a lot. He’s not sure how it came about this way, but somehow, despite all the hard times, Harry has found a place in his heart. Harry has the door to the taxicab just about closed when Louis springs to his feet, rushes over, and screams, “No, wait!”

 

Harry looks up, startled, his nose pink and face flushed. “What?”

 

“Stay. Will you stay? Stay with me. Please just… stay. I won’t leave you. I promise.”

 

Harry startles. His eyes grow wide, and he blinks a few times, his mouth falling agape. “I…”

 

“Listen, Harry, you deserve better than this. And I mean, sure I don’t really know you, but maybe I’d like to get to know you. And you shared some really rough stuff with me today, and I’m so sorry that you’re experiencing that, but could you please, please, let me have a chance to show you a better Christmas? I absolutely promise you, I’m not going anywhere. We don’t even have to talk about Christmas, and I can take down all my lights, and decorations, my tree, everything. I just don’t want you to be alone.” 

 

Harry swallows heavily. Louis waits for him to respond, and there’s nothing, not a word, so he takes a step backwards. “I’m…I’m sorry. I overstepped. You go and have that quiet day, and I’ll see you when you get back, if you want to see me. And if you don’t, that’s okay too. Alright.” He gives a small wave, and backs away from the taxicab, nodding to himself in a type of self-reassurance.

 

He doesn’t mean to watch the taxi, but he can’t help himself, and he sees Harry lean forward from inside, and say something to the driver, handing something forward. They’ve got to be directions. Louis should leave, but instead he just finds himself standing still, wondering how things took such a sharp turn. He looks up onto the room of the building, where he’d displayed hundreds of lights in an attempt to make Harry smile in his big surprise, and he feels the remote to start the whole thing off in his pocket. It seems a shame to leave them unlit, but there’s no way he could light them up now. 

 

He almost misses it as he looks at the building sadly, but the door to the taxi opens, and Harry steps out. Louis swivels, and he sees Harry’s lips move, but he can’t make out what he’s saying. “What? What are you saying?”

 

“I…okay,” Harry says a little louder, his voice shaking. “Okay. I’ll stay. If that’s still alright with you?” He seems unsure, but Louis nods.

 

“Yes, yes. Yes of course it’s okay! Please.”

 

Harry gives the taxi driver a nod, and he drives off. Then Harry’s just standing there, holding his suitcase, biting his lip, and Louis takes a step forward towards him, and extends his arms. Harry steps forward as well, dropping the suitcase, and almost falls into Louis’ arms, wrapping him close. They’re only separated by the slight padding of Louis’ Santa belly, but Harry holds him close. He buries his head into the shorter man’s shoulder, and Louis feels a tightness in his chest like he hasn’t felt in a long time. When the embrace finally ends, Harry looks at Louis, as if he has lots to say, but doesn’t quite know how to say it.

 

“So,” Louis says uncertainly. “So, what made you decide not to go?”

 

It seems like an eternity before Harry answers, but when he does, the words shake through Louis’ whole body.

 

“You never left.”

 

Louis swallows hard. “Yeah…” he says quietly. “But how could I? You were here.” 

 

 Under the light of the street lamps, there’s just enough light that the snowflakes are sparkling in Harry’s hair, on his eyelashes, and on the tip of his nose. “You’ve got a little —“ he says, reaching out to gentle brush away the flake clinging to his nose. Harry giggles slightly. 

 

“You know,” Harry murmurs. “I swear I’m not always this grumpy. I want to believe in magic and stuff. It’s just hard.”

 

“I know.”

 

Harry bites his lip as he looks at Louis. “I hope you don’t hate me now, or..”

 

“No, no, not at all.”

 

It’s weird, standing there with Harry after this month of  trying to make him smile, and finally meeting him here. Louis feels so many things at once, but most of them are just an outpouring of love for this poor broken soul. “I don’t hate you at all,” he adds, meeting Harry’s eyes. “I hope you don’t hate me for pushing you so hard for something you didn’t want to do.”

 

“No,” Harry says, his lips barely moving. “You were just trying to make me smile, weren’t you?”

 

“Yeah. I’m sorry it didn’t work.”

 

“It’s okay.” Harry licks his lips and looks away for a moment, before turning back to Louis. “You can try to make me smile more now, okay? I promise I’ll try to be less closed-off.”

 

“Sounds good to me,” Louis whispers, and despite the cold wind whipping around them, and the sadness in the air, it’s almost magnets, pulling them together, and their lips brush gently  and Louis feels warmth inside him. He cups his left hand to Harry’s face, and uses the other to pull Harry closer against him. With the gentle curl of their lips, and sigh of their breath, suddenly everything feels a little bit more okay. As the kiss deepens, they press closer together, forgetting the swirling snow around them. And somehow, though Louis will never be quite sure how, a certain switch in his right pocket gets bumped, and suddenly the building is awash with light, and they break the kiss, turning towards the glow.

 

“How did…” Harry sighs, the lights reflecting in his eyes. “Did you…?” Louis can see he’s trying hard to fathom it, but the lights that he’s strung on their two balconies are sparkling like stars, and it’s even more beautiful than he expected.

 

“I’ll never tell,” Louis smiles, his eyes flickering to Harry’s face. “Perhaps there is some magic after all.” And at the corner of Harry’s mouth, tugs a small, little, beginning of a smile. 

 

Harry gently turns Louis’ head, and pulls him back in to meet his lips once again, and Louis can feel that maybe, just maybe, things are going to be alright.

 

\--

—

 

Five years later, Harry and Louis are having a very different December.

 

December 1st, they put up lights at their house, showing their two-year old adopted daughter Lucy the pretty colours and watching her squeal in delight.

 

December 5th, the whole family gets together and giggles at Louis’ ridiculous dancing Santa.

 

December 10th, Louis takes Lucy out to buy Harry a present.

 

December 11th, Harry takes Lucy out to buy Louis a present. 

 

December 15th, they bundle Lucy up in a warm coat, and take her around to go caroling, everywhere in the neighbourhood. 

 

December 20th, they go out to pick their Christmas tree, and decorate it together, and Harry lifts Lucy high up to help her put the star at the very top. 

 

December 21st, they decorate a gingerbread house with lots of  gummies and icing, and take a dozen pictures of Lucy covered in the tasty mess.

 

December 24th, they celebrate Louis’ birthday with cake, family cuddles and kisses. They hang their stockings, and read cute stories, before tucking Lucy into bed, telling her how much they love her, and that they’ll always be together.

 

And December 25th, they celebrate just how lucky they truly are to have found each other.

 

It’s not always easy for Harry, but with Louis kissing him every day, and telling him he loves him and will never leave, sometimes it gets a little easier to remember. After all, the people who love you, the people who stay, they’re worth celebrating every day. Lucy knows it, Louis knows it, and most of all, so does Harry. 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you thought!


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